My mother thinks
her son is a saint,
for I fold my hands
in front of her deity
and join her in her prayers...
The same hands,
I had promised before her,
shall not hold a staff, a knife or a gun,
but instead
shall wipe the tears of the poor,
go up to the traitors to jeer
and the patriots to cheer!
The same hands
(How can I tell mother?)
tenderly feel the cheeks
of another deity! Very pretty!
It is high time
I install her in our home...
